


005 - Do Not Disturb

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Mini Fic, Reader-Insert, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 13:55:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17468849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: A fic about: Hotels. Sex. And Van McCann.





	005 - Do Not Disturb

International flights were never your favourite, so when you collected the key left by Van at the front desk and opened the hotel suite door, you were straight into bed. Van would be back from the show around midnight, so you had a few hours to sleep.

From the hallway, the door opened into a living space, which then branched out into multiple bedrooms and a shared bathroom. This meant that when Van arrived, he arrived with the noise of a band of people. To be fair, most of the people were quiet. You'd hardly know Benji or Bob were even there, for example. Larry and Van though… They were mid argument about jaffa cakes when it occurred to Van that you were potentially asleep in the next room.

"Mate, keep it down, Y/N is sleeping," he hushed. The noise quietened, but quickly grew again when someone went to shower and in doing so broke the rule of shotgun. Eventually Van won the first shower because it seemed fair. He wanted to go to bed straight away.

Fifteen minutes later the door opened, letting in light for only a few seconds. Van was quiet as he crawled into bed. You could feel the hot warmth of the shower still on him. He moved slowly, trying to determine if you were awake. He pressed up behind you and gently placed a hand on your shoulder. He placed a light kiss on the back of your neck. It sent goosebumps across your skin.

"Y/N?" he whispered. You nodded sleepily. "I missed you," he told you, and kissed a line across your back to your shoulder. His hand found its way to yours in the dark. Your fingers curled between his, and you held on tight. You missed him too. A lot. If you turned around and told him though, you'd probably cry. Better just to let him show you how much he missed you.

You were lying on your sides, spooned together. Van had one armed under you, curled around your waist. His free arm moved around your body. His fingers brushed through your hair, then drew little pictures on your back. He dragged his fingernails lightly down your arm. He traced the line of your hip bone, and ran a finger along the seam of underwear.

"Are you sleepy?" he asked in a whisper. You missed his voice. You missed how different Van talking and Van singing sounded; not to mention the high pitch version when he was slightly confused or confronted. You nodded, and he said "Do you want me to stop? Want to sleep? Or-" You rolled around to face him while making a whining sound that vaguely resembled the word 'no.' He made a pleased sound and kissed you on the forehead in reply.

Your lips found his and you missed his taste. His hands went under your shirt, and his fingers danced patterns across your stomach, your ribcage, your chest. The kiss stopped so you could both breathe. You kissed his neck, aiming to leave bruises. Van's hand moved down, and the fuzzy feeling in your head started.

At first he was just touching, exploring. It was light and good. Van rubbed circles around your clit, and it was enough to make you squirm. Then, he was in you and fuck, did you miss this. He moved one finger in and out at a pace that was perfect and you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer. You wrapped a leg up and around him to do the same.

The best thing about sex with Van was that it wasn't all about the end result, the climax. He was good at the build up. He cared more about you than he did about himself. The amount of time he spent just touching you and making you shiver and drip and beg was proof of that.

"Van," you said on a breath out. "Van," you tried again. He wasn't interpreting it as a signal to stop. "Babe, stop." His reaction was immediate, which made you smile.

"Wha- you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just, I love you," you told him and he kissed you.

"I love you too. I missed you," he said again. The love was fucking exploding out of you and it hurt in the best way. You kissed again and it was home.

In a too-crisp hotel bed, in a city that you didn’t know, in a country you didn’t live in, you were home. His stupid fluffy hair and his father's necklace, and his pale skin and blue eyes and happy smile and big, big heart. Completely at home.


End file.
